“Let’s think about this!”
Noah snorted and looked over his shoulder at his friend.
“Don’t you want to break the bonds of geekdom, Dexter?” he asked in a whisper.
“Well, perhaps, yes, But-but-but, don’t you think you are being, perhaps, too hasty with this?”
“Hasty? I’ve planned this for hours. Well, okay, minutes. But, there is not a more noble cause. Now, be quiet. Our quarry might hear.”
Noah rubbed the snowball and looked down the embankment at their targets.
“The guys on Cherry Street have plagued us Elm-Streeters ever since the first snow,” Noah mumbled, “Now is the time to strike back. Let the Cherry feel the wrath of the mighty Elm!”
“What about Santa? This isn’t considered a good deed you know.”
“‘I think one good act by me, even if it’s just to get presents, should count as five good acts by some sweet-tempered kid that is motivated by the pureness of heart, don’t you?’” asked Noah, quoting his favorite comic strip, Calvin and Hobbes, “besides, Dexter, we’re both eleven, far beyond the belief of a kindly old man invented by soft drink conglomerates.”
“Actually, Santa Claus was…”
“C’mon, grow a backbone! Are with me or are you against me, Dexter?”
“Uh-uh-uh, with you, of course, yes, with you.”
“Good. Heh, heh. The Cherry will be felled without knowing who its attackers are!”
“Oh, okay,” a smile broke out across Dexter’s face, “when do we strike?”
Noah thrust out his hand, “Patience, battle-brother, patience.”
Noah studied the knot of teenagers kneeling at the base of the draw,
“They’re planning something, no doubt. Yes, they’re planning new ways to torment us Elm-Streeters. And not only that, they’re blocking whatever they’re working on. Arrr!” he growled, shoveling up more snow and crafting another snowball, “the nerve of these cocking teenagers! They think they know it all.”
“Actually, teenagers do know…”
Noah speared Dexter with an intense glare.
“Ss-sorry.”
Noah gave a curt nod and was again lost in his plan.
“Heh, heh. They’ll never see it coming! Oh, the brilliance!” Noah turned to Dexter, “Okay, at the count of three, we launch this arsenal of snowballs at them, they’re close and only a dweeb would miss. Now, we’re protected by a fort, and, if the need of retreat arises, we destroy it before leaving, understood?”
Noah waited until Dexter nodded, then grabbed two snowballs from the mini-mountain.
“One, two, THREE!”
Noah wound up and sent one sizzling to the closest crouched teenager.
At the first volley, the teenagers jumped up, revealing a pile of snowballs.
“Alas,” cried Noah with a smile, “they have decided to grow backbones! C’mon, worthless teenagers! Fight!”
A shower of snow clouded his vision as a snowball connected with his head.
“Mayday! Mayday! Taking fire! Taking Fire!” he yelled.
He looked over his left shoulder to see Cherry-Streeters pouring out ditches and jumping out from behind trees.
“Dexter, abort mission! I repeat, abort mission!”
Noah jumped up and sprinted to his right, running through a hail of snowballs, hoping to get up the steep bank before they reached him.
“They were waiting for us!” Dexter yelled.
“That’s obvious, isn’t it?”
The teenagers that were their original targets crested the bank and vaulted Noah’s fort.
Noah scrambled and clawed, rolling over the top mere moments before his enemies. Dexter was not as fortunate. The Cherry-Streeters grabbed him by the waist and body-slammed him to the ground.
“Nn-Noah!” Dexter choked as the pack of teenagers shoveled snow down his coat and into his face.
Noah stopped and turned, screaming his war-cry. He scooped up snow as he ran, chucking it into the leader’s face. Before the teenager could recover, Noah took a running leap off the embankment and tackled him.
“See how you like it!” he screeched, using his momentary advantage to grind snow into the boy’s face.
Hands ripped him off and dumped him into the snow. He rolled, toppling an enemy. Teenagers jumped on him, pinning him down. They grabbed his arms and legs and pulled him out, spread-eagle.
“Well, well. Too bad your plan backfired,” a voice cut through the scuffle. The teenagers parted, revealing their leader.
“Levi,” Noah spat.
“My reputation proceeds me,” Levi smirked, “You know, I’m tired of getting pestered by little kids from Elm Street, we all are. So, I hope this will teach you a lesson on who not to mess with.”
Levi straddled Noah and ground snow into his face, while his friends shoveled snow on Dexter. Levi stopped and sat back, smirking at Noah. Suddenly, Levi's face transformed. His face twisted and his eyes bugged out. A screech of pain escaped him as he jumped up, rubbing his back. All around him, a cacophony of cries filled the hollow.
Elm-street boys broke into sight, holding slingshots and snapping paintballs at the teenagers grouped below. Their missiles filled the air, leaving painful welts on their targets. Noah rolled and jumped up. He sprinted over to Dexter and pulled him up.
“Come, Dexter, gird your wits about you!” he yelled, hurling snowballs at the retreating enemy, “The Cherry-tree runs with fright! Ha! The day is ours!”
The teenagers zig-zagged out of sight, rubbing welts and swearing revenge. The victorious Elm-Streeters high-fived and slapped shoulders, congratulating their victory. Slowly, the group dispersed.
Noah trudged toward his home with Dexter a step behind him. Soon, they reached Dexter’s house, which was right beside Noah’s. Noah stopped at Dexter’s doorstep.
“Alas, one battle is won,” Noah mused, rubbing his face that was pink from the snow. He turned to Dexter, “Good job, friend, you were there when I needed you. You stood when the riff-raff would have run. Good job, soldier.”
“Th-thank you.”
“Oh, and Dexter?”
“Yes?”
“I treated you wrong. I’m sorry.”
Dexter smiled and nodded. He turned into his house feeling accomplished, and that he fought well that day.